


Primer

by yeaka



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Ficlet, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-07
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-17 13:46:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28600911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Prompto steps up Noctis’ model game.
Relationships: Prompto Argentum/Noctis Lucis Caelum
Comments: 10
Kudos: 84





	Primer

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Final Fantasy XV or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

The camera flashes, and a couple years ago, that would’ve been enough to make Noctis swerve off the track and explode. Then he would’ve glared in the direction of the camera and tried to give the offending person the middle finger before Ignis or his father could stop him. But that was back when pictures were snatched without his consent, circulated amongst the paparazzi and destined for the papers. This is an entirely different thing. Noctis supports Prompto’s passion for photography. In a weird way, he’s kind of flattered to be Prompto’s favourite subject. And he’s grown so used to the fluttering sound of Prompto’s lens that it doesn’t affect his gameplay at all.

He swerves over the starting line for the second lap, still in first place, skidding onto the only straight part of the track and powering up his boosters. Technically, the game’s more fun when _both_ of them are playing, but they can only unlock new tracks in story-mode, and that’s single-player. Noctis tried to trade the controller off with Prompto. But Prompto keeps insisting Noctis is better at it, and he seems perfectly content to let Noctis hog the spotlight. 

Noctis allows that, because he seriously loves gaming, and he loves having Prompto next to him, and being able to have both at once without any self-sacrifice is pretty rad. 

Prompto takes another shot, tilting towards the coffee table, and then slips over the couch to maneuver between them, crouching next to Noctis’ legs. Noctis can’t imagine that’s a particularly good angle. Then he self-consciously wonders if he’s got any weird hairs in his nostrils. He shifts uncomfortably but doesn’t interfere with Prompto’s rampant hobby. Fortunately, Prompto makes the right call and climbs back onto the cushion next to Noctis, leaning so close that his knees fold over Noctis’ thighs. Noctis tries not to let that distract him. Prompto _touching him_ is always way worse than a flash going off. 

The car behind Noctis shoots out a rocket, and his back wheels instantly catch on fire. He swears, deliberately doing a U-turn over the nearest cliff, because it’s faster to just die all at once and re-spawn than wait for a health power-up to restore his speed. As fantastical as the death music is, Prompto barely pays any attention, even though Noctis knows he adores Justice Monsters X.

It seems like he just adores Noctis more. Which Noctis certainly isn’t complaining about. 

As Noctis’ car magically coalesces between the seventh- and eighth-place NPCs, Prompto mutters, “Man, you look good from _every_ angle! Seriously, how is that even possible?”

“Dunno.” He’s deliberately nonchalant. He’s probably blushing. But he tries not to. He’s had years of practice schooling his features into perfect neutrality in the face of probing interviews and long, boring press releases. Somehow it’s harder around Prompto. Maybe he’s just become so accustomed to being _himself_ with his best friend that it’s hard to pull those walls back up again. A part of him doesn’t want to. It’s embarrassing to blush at a simple throwaway comment, but it’s also refreshing to be that honest, be raw and open, and know Prompto will have him anyway. 

Prompto sighs almost faux-dreamily, “You’re _such_ a good model.”

“And you’re such a dork.” He means it affectionately. Prompto doesn’t seem to take any offense.

“Have you ever considered being, like, an actual model?”

That one death screwed him up; he reaches the finish line in fifth-place. Nose wrinkling in annoyance, he hits the ‘retry’ button before the losing music can even start. He doesn’t need that shame. Eyes glued to the screen, he mutters, “No _way_.”

“Why not? You’d be perfect for it!”

“Dude, are you even hearing yourself?”

“What? I believe! You could be!”

“But that’s like... work.”

“Pfft. You kept trying to get Iggy to let you take a summer job so you could have your own cash and not royal stuff, right? Well, you’ve already done half the work for modeling! You work out—”

“Not by choice,” Noctis mutters, because they both know if Gladiolus didn’t physically drag him to the training yard every Saturday, he’d never show.

“Yeah, but you do, so you’re always in great shape.”

“Wouldn’t I have to wear like... makeup and shit?” And Noctis totally doesn’t know how makeup works, even though he’s often had Citadel employees fuss over his face and slather mysterious powders and liquids on before public appearances.

“Not necessarily... but now that you mention it, I bet you’d look super hot in makeup...” His voice trails off. Noctis knows exactly what that means. Ignis tells him all the time that he doesn’t pay enough attention to the world around him, but he’s picked up all of Prompto’s mannerisms like they’re a part of his own psyche. He opens his mouth to intervene, but Prompto’s already stumbling, “Can I... I mean, if you’re cool with it... if you’re not that’s totally okay... but, like... now I kinda really wanna...?” Then he rushes all at once, “Can I put makeup on you? _Please_?”

It’s so unfair. Nobody should be allowed to be as cute as Prompto is. He has the biggest, bluest puppy-dog eyes when he asks like that, and even though Noctis never once considered wearing makeup on his own, he suddenly can’t say no. he begrudgingly mutters, “I guess.” Hopefully it goes without saying that this is a private thing between them—he’d never let somebody else mess with his face just for funsies.

He’d let Prompto do a whole lot of things to him. So he pauses the game and bends forward to set the controller on the coffee table. He’s in first place again with all three power-up slots filled and doesn’t want to lose that progress. 

Prompto makes a high-pitched noise like a giddy cartoon mouse and practically flies off the couch, scuttling towards his bag. It gives Noctis a nice view of his rear end when he ducks to fish inside it. When Noctis talks, his speech comes out slow, because he’s distracted by how taut Prompto’s leggings are, stretched tight across his ass. “You have makeup in your bag?”

“Just cover up and some basics.” When he straightens back up, it looks like there’s a lot more than just basics in his arms. Noctis can’t imagine why—it’s not like Prompto has any tattoos he might have to suddenly cover up. At least, not that Noctis knows about. If he finds out Prompto has a secret, sexy tramp-stamp, he’ll die happy. 

Prompto sits perilously close and dumps the various containers into Noctis’ lap. Noctis turns to face him, sucking in a deep breath and vowing to survive this, if only to keep the smile on Prompto’s face. As Prompto pops a bottle open and pours the contents into his palm, Noctis checks, “Whatever photos you take of this aren’t for anybody else though, right?”

Prompto glances at him. Their eyes catch, and for a brief moment, Noctis can _feel_ the warmth of their connection. The sparks. Prompto seems to radiate sheer _love_ , and he looks at Noctis like he’s overwhelmed with it—like he knows how rare it is for anyone to get this close, and he’s honoured to be there. 

He promises softly, “Yeah. Just for us.”

Noctis can’t take it anymore. He puckers his lips and waits for Prompto to come to him, which Prompto inevitably does, chuckling and grinning like a star.

He pecks Noctis’ mouth and then gets started, murmuring excitedly, “Bud, I know you’re already smoking hot, but you’re about to be even hotter than a steamy bowl of Kenny Crow summer spice fries fresh out of the oven, and I am gonna masturbate to these pictures even more than the dick pic you sent on my birthday.”

Noctis laughs, knowing that’s worth more than all the unlockable tracks in Justice Monsters X combined.


End file.
